


To Be, Or Not To Be?

by star_named_andy



Series: Shakespeare Does a Funny Thing [8]
Category: The Hobbit (1977), The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Archery, Barduil - Freeform, F/M, Fluff, M/M, References to Shakespeare, bagginshield, cuteness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-28
Updated: 2015-04-28
Packaged: 2018-03-26 03:57:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3836170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/star_named_andy/pseuds/star_named_andy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bard laughed, admiring his boyfriend from afar and was stunned with the beauty that was Thranduil Oropherion; the sun’s rays sparkled down on the smile Thranduil flashed to Bard over his shoulder, making him look as if he were an angel descending from the heavens coming to bring him to a land of endless valleys of plush grass and flowers that laughed when the wind tickled their petals. Everything about Thranduil was striking from his outside to the very core of his being and in that moment, something struck a chord in the young brunette; he’d never thought much about soulmates and marriage, but Bard blushed as he thought he never wanted to live through life without Thranduil.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Be, Or Not To Be?

**Author's Note:**

> (Disclaimer: I do not own the Hobbit, Lord of the Rings, or any of its characters or content. I also make no claims to owning any of William Shakespeare's work.)

The days leading up to the archery competition in Durinstown seemed to drag on for Bard, even through his growing eagerness. He would soon be up against some of the best archers in the state for a hefty prize of two five hundred dollar checks with medals, certificates and a t-shirt thrown in. Not only that, but his parents, his best friend, and his boyfriend would all be there cheering him on. He’d competed what he thought to be hundreds of times before for big rewards in front of huge crowds, but this time felt like it would be different. Bard was confident he would score well at the competition because he always did, but now the pressure was _really_ on to impress the people closest to him.

He wanted to visit with Thranduil before Wednesday; he offered to make the trip to Mirkwood so Thranduil wouldn’t be expending his gas, but Thranduil insisted apologetically that he was unavailable doing “family things”. The explanation went no further than that and when Bard suggested that Thranduil invite his parents to the competition, the topic was quickly dismissed by the blonde. Bard didn’t push the matter further, though it left him hanging with some questions; perhaps it would just be too much for Thranduil to be officially meeting the Bowmans as Bard’s boyfriend and to have his own parents there at once. Bard wasn’t sure what Thranduil’s reasons were, but he was patient and understanding. They hadn’t been dating too long, after all. There was no rush for everything to happen at once.

At least his anxiousness could finally be put to rest as the big day came. He dressed himself in a black, short sleeved Under Armour shirt, a slim fitting pair of grey athletic shorts, sneakers, and fingerless gloves. Lastly, he tied his hair up in a bun so it wouldn’t irritate him and hinder his vision. He grabbed all of his finest gear necessary and he and his parents, in separate vehicles, started off to Durinstown.

He was keeping calm through the drive as much as he could, because it was impossible not to be somewhat nervous; even the best athletes got nervous. It didn’t help that Thranduil sent a message saying he was going to be late. Bard felt like he needed that good luck kiss even more now that he feared Thranduil wouldn’t make it for the start.

When they arrived, there were already lots of people, spectators and athletes, milling around. With a hug and a kiss to both Runa and Brent, they parted ways and Bard headed toward the sign in table as his parents waded through the bleachers to find a good seat. Bard signed in and was given a tag to hang on his shorts that read:

“CONTESTANT: BARD BOWMAN

SENIOR

TARGET CLASS A # 57

FLIGHT CLASS A #62”

 

Bard had competed in both of those categories before in the highest class, but that didn’t relax him any. Target shooting, which would open the competition, would commence very shortly with class A performing first, so the announcer said and Thranduil was still nowhere to be seen. He wandered around seeking out any familiar faces in the meantime and bumped into a few of his past competitors. They chatted briefly and wished each other luck like good sportsmen before they were ordered to take their positions in rows by the sound of the field captain blowing two whistles.

Bard waited, stroking his fingertips along his bow as everyone took their places. The archers in this class would begin shooting at a distance of forty yards from the first target. The distance would soon climb to ninety yards as the Imperial Rounds, as they were called, went on and each advancement in distance was called an “end”. Each archer would be given two minutes to fire three arrows in each end, no matter the distance. The targets were made up of ten rings with four colors: white, black, blue, red, and finally yellow (which was the very center). The rings had different score values based on their colors, making the yellow rings the highest in value.

He allowed himself to peer over his shoulder to attempt to scour the audience for his parents, Bilbo, and Thranduil, but the sun glared too harshly in his eyes for him to be able to make out any faces in the far off seating area. He released a weighted breath and straightened his back. A final two blows of the whistle were given, meaning that it was almost time. Bard then began settling into his zone of absolute focus; the competition would still go on, good luck kiss or not.

Mid breath, Bard’s concentration shook as someone behind the archers started yelling obscenely loud. Many heads turned including Bard’s and his eyes widened as he saw his blonde boyfriend darting toward him with a sign that read “DRAGONSLAYER” with hearts in the open spaces of the “a”s and the “o”. He immediately ducked his head down, his face burning with blush and a wide grin stretching across his face. Bard waved for the field captain to wait just a moment more and he met Thranduil before he could make it to the archer’s row.

“I’m here, baby, I’m here!” Thranduil huffed, his windblown hair messily falling to a still over his shoulders and a smile curling his lips.

“We’re just about to-” Before Bard could finish, Thranduil’s hand clamped on the back of his neck and yanked him into a surprisingly deep and captivating kiss that made some of the onlookers cheer and holler. Bard barely got a chance to return the favor as passionately before the kiss was broken and he was left in a daze.

“Go get ‘em.” Thranduil whispered, winked, and then ran away just as fast as he had appeared. Seeing Thranduil run made Bard realize just how long Thranduil’s legs really were.

Bard hurried back to his place in line and the field captain gave him an annoyed look before clearing the way. A pause held the tension on the field until the ringing of one loud whistle blast resounded in Bard’s ear, giving the signal that the archers could begin.

Bard’s sight narrowed intensely on the target as his first arrow flew, and then a second and third. He finished much quicker than a lot of the other challengers that stood in the row with him. From what he could gather, his accuracy surpassed theirs, too, but he couldn’t see down the whole line. End after end came as the distances upped and Bard only scored outside the yellow rings once, making his overall score the victor. The competitors that weren’t stewing with bitterness over their stupendous losses were in awe at Bard’s near perfect score and many went to him to give him a congratulatory shake of his hand and pat him of his back. He transitioned right into the flight shooting afterward, flinging arrows high into the air with his high caliber bow as far as he could, and was given the same response as he claimed triumph again with first place. He allowed himself a bit of modest gloating with a large grin to himself – the man had just one first place in two categories of the highest rank and won one thousand dollars, two certificates, two medals and a t-shirt, after all! He had plenty of warrant to celebrate his immense success.

With his awards and his gear covering him, his greatest prize of all was bolting toward him, waving his sign high up in the air and howling in honor of Bard’s victories. Bard dropped his bow and all of his earned gifts so that when Thranduil flew into his arms, he could lift him and spin him in the air. The sign was abandoned as they shared a jovial boom of laughter and even when Bard set Thranduil on his feet, he squeezed him hard.

“Damn, that good luck kiss sure was something, I guess!” Bard exclaimed and planted a firm kiss on Thranduil’s lips once, then again and again until Thranduil was giggling too much and pawing him away.

“It wasn’t the kiss; it was all you, baby…man you’re _so sweaty_.”

“Whatever you do, don’t touch my armpits.”

“I did my best to avoid them in that bear hug, but I don’t mind so much.”

“Really now?”

“That’s not an invitation to rub your stank all over me!” Thranduil said, knowing Bard all too well by now and the brunette chuckled.

“I was going to raise up my arms and wave them in your face, but oh well. You’re missing out.”

“I’d prefer another scent of sweat, thank you.”

“And what’s that?” Bard asked with a cheeky smirk and wrapping his arm around Thranduil’s waist to pull him very, _very_ close. A pinkness flared in Thranduil’s cheeks.

“I like your shorts.” He whispered and Bard knew exactly why; with how tight Thranduil’s pants were and how freely Bard’s package hung in his shorts, their lengths touched very prominently. Bard had a hungry glint shining in his eyes, reciprocated by Thranduil, but they both moved to create more space between them as a voice rose calling to Bard.

“HEY, WINNER!” Bilbo yelled, flailing his arms as he neared and Thorin, Runa and Brent were not far behind. Thranduil straightened himself and his hair as they approached.

“Hey, you made it!” Bard greeted and went right to Bilbo with a hug.

“Yeah, and I’m glad I did! Bard, that was _amazing!”_ Bilbo praised and shook him by the shoulders. “I’ve seen some of the school archery tournaments, but wow! Fantastic, utterly fantastic, my friend.”

“Thanks!”

“Hey, Bard. How’re you doing? That was incredible.” Thorin said very politely with a subtle smile as he extended his hand. Bard took it and they did a shake-hug-slap back gesture that men often did. Bard and Thorin had only met a few times and this was always their customary greeting.

“Thanks, man. Glad you could come. Look at that beard game!”

“It grows like you wouldn’t imagine.” Bilbo commented, stroking his boyfriend’s full beard and then diverting his hand’s focus onto Thorin’s curly ponytail.

“We Oakenshields are hairy folk, unfortunately.” Thorin said and Bilbo rested his head on his broad shoulder.

“It’s not unfortunate! I like your hair, peachybee, _all_ of it.”

“ _Bilbo_ ,” Thorin whined embarrassedly under his breath and Bilbo giggled at the flush that came to his face behind his dark facial hair. “Not here.”

“Sorry, sorry. Oh, hi! Thranduil, is it?” Bilbo said, looking directly at Thranduil had been silent during the reunion of friends. He seemed surprised to even be noticed.

“Yes, hello.” Thranduil spoke and Bilbo shook his hand vigorously, his eyes wide as he stared up at the tall blonde.

“I’m Bilbo, Bard’s roommate and best friend…goodness, you really _are_ as good looking as everyone says! I’ve never seen you up this close!”

“Oh – thank you.” Thranduil said with much grace and modesty in his tone, despite being caught off guard by how excited this little man was (Bilbo was very short for a man of his age, and compared to Thranduil he was absolutely miniscule). Thorin grumbled about the comment Bilbo had made about Thranduil’s beauty a little, but he shook Thranduil’s hand out of courtesy and gave his name. It was then that Runa and Brent finally reached them and all attention fell onto them, _especially_ Thranduil’s.

“Hello, Runa, Brent; it’s nice to see you two again.” He said pleasantly and shook Brent’s hand before being pulled into a hug by Runa.

“It’s nice to see you again too, Thranduil sweetie!” she said and she next latched onto Bard to give him a tight embrace. “So well done, honey! I’m so happy for you!”

“Thanks, ma.” Bard said and Brent pat him on the back.

“You really showed up the competition today, Bard! We’re more and more proud of you every day.”

“Oh, look! How sweet!” Runa said as she spotted Thranduil’s sign and he held it up so she could see it better. “Dragonslayer? What does that mean?”

“Bard didn’t tell you? That’s been his nickname around campus since he wiped the floor with one of our rival schools Smaug University at an archery tournament.” Thranduil replied.

“To be fair, I seemed to be the only one who didn’t know about the nickname.” Bard added.

With much more praise and several farewells from Bilbo, he and Thorin took off which left Thranduil, Bard, Runa and Brent to return to the Bowman home for lunch. Bard offered to do the cooking, which may have been a mistake, since Runa insisted that Thranduil relaxed in the living room with them, meaning Thranduil and his parents were out of his sight. He was hoping as he was slaving over the stove that his father would go easy on Thranduil and that his mother wouldn’t smother him with affection or, god forbid, _break out the baby pictures_. This inspired Bard to cook much faster. Once he was done laying all the food out on the table, he practically ran into the living room to announce that everything was ready and to his relief, he saw no albums of baby photos and everyone looked to be calm and content.

As Bard ushered them into the kitchen, they gave him questioning expressions upon seeing french toast, syrup, fruit, eggs, bacon and a pitcher of juice on the table. Thranduil and Bard exchanged knowing gazes and grins at each other; Bard didn’t forget that his blonde lover had a special liking for the breakfast dish. Runa and Brent didn’t complain; whether it was breakfast food or not, it would still be delicious.

“I didn’t know what everyone wanted for sides, so I just put out a couple of different things.” Bard said, pulling out Thranduil’s chair for him and earning a warranted “thank you” from him. “I put out some strawberries, Thran. I can slice them up for you to put them on top with some whipped cream, if you’d like.”

“N-No, that’s alright. Thank you.” Thranduil stuttered, blushing madly at the grandiose gesture.

“Is juice okay to drink?”

“Yes, it’s perfect. Everything is perfect, Bard. Thank you.”

Every last bite of the breakfast buffet was eaten quietly as per usual in the Bowman household, with the exception of praise to Bard for how marvelous it all tasted. Thranduil made note that the cinnamon was his favorite part, which Bard was all too pleased about. The dishes were cleared away by Bard, even though Thranduil had practically begged to help him; Runa wouldn’t have a guest washing dishes by any means, so Thranduil stayed seated at the table and Bard listened over the running water as the three of them conversed.

“You were saying before that you’re a musician too, Thranduil?” Runa inquired.

“Yes. I’ve been taking voice and piano lessons since I was very young; it’s helped me in the long run and I enjoy it.”

“So, do you do musicals too?”

“Yes.”

“Do you have a preference to musicals or straight plays?”

“Not really. They’re both very different, but I like them all the same. I’ll be doing an internship this year to Segway into the working world of theatre.”

“You’re a senior?” Brent asked and Thranduil nodded. “Mmhm. Bard failed to mention that.”

“Da, he’s only a year older.” Bard supplied easily.

“So you want to work as a professional actor? How much does something like that bring in?” Bent questioned.

“I want to, yes. I’ll try my hardest to get work and the pay depends on what kind of jobs you land.”

“Any interest in film? You live in California, so that may be something to look into.” Runa offered.

“I’ve considered it.” Thranduil responded and Brent hummed thoughtfully in his throat as he ran his fingers over his mustache.

“Sounds like a busy life you’re planning.”

“Life would be boring otherwise.” Thranduil said with a charming smile and Bard smirked to himself, proud that he was in love with such a bold yet charismatic human being.

“Do you have something to fall back on if those plans fall through?” Brent asked.

“Well…in a way, yes, though I wouldn’t like to rely on it.”

“And what is it, exactly?”

“My father owns and runs a corporate business. I do have a business and managerial associates degree, so I have the credentials and not just the blood to run or partake in the business if I ever wished to.”

Bard’s ears perked up then, seeing as he knew virtually nothing about Thranduil’s family and home life. His parents seemed to take interest with his statement too.

“A corporate business? What’s the name?” Brent asked.

“Greenwood Gear. They design, manufacture and distribute things like computers.”

Bard dropped the dish in his hand, sending it clanking into the cluttered sink and everyone snapped their heads toward him in surprise. By some stroke of luck, nothing had been broken, but Bard stood completely stunned.

“Honey, are you okay?” Runa asked quickly and Bard spun around, gaping at Thranduil uncontrollably.

“You _what? He what?_ Greenwood Gear? You mean,” Suddenly in mid-sentence, Bard stormed into the other room only to swiftly return with a laptop in his hands. “You mean _this_ Greenwood Gear?” he asked, pointing to the glowing leaf logo on the front.

“That’s the one.” Thranduil replied dryly.

“You never mentioned that!”

“Well, I didn’t think it was all too important. I didn’t want you to…overact.”

“No, no, I’m just… _shocked_ , I guess. That’s a pretty big deal.”

“Mm, I’m not into the whole business scene myself.”

“Whatever makes _you_ happy is the best path to choose.” Runa said and Thranduil smiled at her appreciatively.

“That’s the mindset I’ve always tried to take.” He said.

There was some more questioning that followed, mostly by Brent; he wanted to know about Thranduil’s grades, how long he’d had a license, if he had a criminal record, and the typical fatherly questions that Runa simply listened to with a much more sensitive interest. Brent was definitely putting up a firm front, but everything about Thranduil was turning up clean. He simply nodded in the end, giving Thranduil the most welcoming smile he’d given him all day and a strong handshake. He left Thranduil with the parting words: “You seem to have a good head on your shoulders; take good care of my son.”. Bard took this as a blessing from his father and felt ultimately relieved. They split ways then, Runa and Brent leaving the house all together for some unknown reason, thus finally leaving Bard and Thranduil alone at last. Bard got the itching feeling that his parents left specifically for that purpose, but as soon as he looked at Thranduil ever so beautifully seated at his rustic kitchen table, he was grateful that they did.

“Want to go relax somewhere else?” Bard asked and Thranduil gave a kind nod. The blonde took Bard’s hand as it was offered to him and he stood. “Come on, I’ll give you the tour.”

The tour consisted of trailing back into the living room and then showing him the upstairs, which was only made up of one bathroom, two bedrooms, and an office/study/craft/guest room that each of the Bowmans used. The last stop was Bard’s bedroom of course, where the two plopped onto his bed with full bellies and languid love shimmering in their eyes.

“I’m sorry if that was all too much.” Bard spoke.

“No, they’re cute. They love you a lot and it shows. Do you think your dad likes me?”

“We wouldn’t be here alone right now if he didn’t. He’d probably be pushing you into your audi with a rifle to your ass.”

“Has that happened before?”

“Actually, yes. He doesn’t mess around.”

“Wow. That is dedication, right there; true fatherly love. Your little friend was adorable.”

“Who, Bilbo? Yeah, he sure is something.”

“Is he the friend we’re supposed to be going to the movie with?”

“That’s the one.”

“His boyfriend didn’t seem too friendly.”

“Thorin just didn’t like Bilbo saying you were attractive. From what I know of him, he’s the jealous type.”

“Bilbo said I was ‘as good looking as everyone says’…do people really talk about me that much?”

“You’re surprised?” Bard questioned, knowing by Thranduil’s tone that he was being sincere. “I’m pretty sure you have everyone questioning their sexuality no matter what it is, Thran. Everyone knows how devastatingly gorgeous you are.”

“Is that what you thought of me?” Thranduil asked softly.

“Most definitely, but I wondered more about the man behind the looks.”

“That’s very sweet of you to say.” The blonde scoffed with a smirk and a roll of his pale blue eyes.

“It’s not sweet, it’s true. I never fantasized about having hot, steamy sex with you.” Bard began and Thranduil gave him a skeptical glare. “Okay, maybe not _never_ , but what I liked to imagine the most was ‘what does his laugh sound like? what’s the first thing he does when he wakes up in the morning? does he have a preference for Crest or Colgate toothpaste?’”

“No you _did not!_ ” Thranduil blurted with ridiculously elated laughter weaving through his words.

“I _did so_ , and other silly, trivial things like that because I wanted to just _know_ you not just know _of_ you. I always dreamed you wouldn’t remain a mystery, but I never had the gut to say anything to you. You were always too far away from my world up on this heavenly pedestal that I could never reach – _OW!_ ” Bard rubbed his head after it had been bluntly thunked by Thranduil’s fist and he pouted with a dumbfounded expression. “What was that for?”

“Your words are all nice and good, expect for one little part; you were _never_ and will _never_ be beneath me in any way other than in the sexual way. I know you know I’m not some spotless human being who looks pretty on a pedestal all day for everyone to fawn over, right?”

“Yes, of course I know that.”

“And I’m not some untouchable figure of vanity. I never want you to think that ever again, not for one second.”

“That’s just what I _thought_ then before you made me feel…accepted? I don’t know what word I’m looking for, but you just make me feel so…special; special and comfortable and normal and happy all at once, like this is the way all people are meant to feel and I’d been missing out this whole time.”

“…wow.”

“Too mushy?”

“No.”

“What’s ‘wow’ then?”

“That’s just perfect for the way I feel about you, Bard.”

“So I don’t scare you anymore?” the brunette asked as he scooted closer to Thranduil and closed Thranduil’s hand within his. Thranduil shifted his head so that it was resting deeper into the pillow that smelled like his boyfriend and their foreheads bumped gently. He stared at their joined hands as struggled to speak up.

“The only thing that scares me is the fact that I’m not afraid,” he finally said. “But I’m happy that I’m not. I love being _with you in every way_.”

“Let’s be together another way right now, then.”

Bard’s suggestion came to sound more like a statement in his lowered, growling voice as he quickly slipped his arm around Thranduil and yanked him close so that their bodies were pressed together. Thranduil’s whimper of surprise was swallowed by a ravenous kiss. Their tongues slithered together with a bit of delay on Thranduil’s part (because he certainly wasn’t expecting things to shift so quickly and definitely not on Bard’s behalf). Their breath became loud and heavy, beating down into each other’s mouths as their tongues rolled together and their hands roamed over each other’s bodies. As Thranduil’s hands slipped under Bard’s tight shirt to fondle his well worked, sweaty muscles, the brunette hurriedly threw it off over his head and then pounced on top of Thranduil. He ground his hips and his hard on straight into Thranduil’s whilst never abandoning that pretty, moaning mouth. Thranduil was coming to the realization every time he was with Bard that sex wasn’t just sex, it was an experience teeming with life if it was with the right person; Bard was driven by romance and his intense love for Thranduil, and Thranduil let that love rain down on him in a raw state of vulnerability, once again awakened by the sensation of _truly being open, being loved and being cared for_ _physically and emotionally_ _by another._

“ _Bard_ , I…”

“What is it, love?” Bard huffed.

“ _Thank you_.”

Bard smiled at him gently before kissing his chest just where his heart was beating.

“And thank _you_ , _Thranduil_.”

“It’s Crest, by the way.”

“What?”

“My toothpaste preference…its _Crest_.”

Thranduil became a frequent visitor at the Bowman home through the end of May and into June, their relationship thus growing and becoming older and more wonderful as the weeks passed. Thranduil didn’t always stay the night when he came to visit Bard in Laketown, but they each loved it when he did because waking up to each other was always a good way to start the day and the occasional, hushed, lazy and _fantastic_ morning sex enhanced the dawning of a new day even more. Whenever Thranduil would return home after his stays, they would wait a few days in between until meeting again per Thranduil’s request, and that was a more than reasonable request, seeing as they each still had their own life affairs to attend to.

On some of their visits, like this one, Thranduil accompanied Bard to the shooting range out of curiosity. He liked to watch Bard flaunt his skills, but today he was interested in more than just watching. They were in the target training section of the range outdoors alone when Thranduil had made the subtle implication that he wanted to try shooting himself and Bard picked up on it right away. Thranduil acted like he had no interest, but Bard was going to make him an offer he couldn’t refuse.

“No, no, it was just a hypothetical suggestion. _Really_.” Thranduil protested, backing up with his hands up in the air like he wanted nothing to do with the bow that Bard was trying to give him as he edged closer.

“Listen, I _know_ you want to. What, are you afraid you won’t get it right on the first try?” Bard teased and Thranduil crossed his arms with his eyes looking off into the distance in an annoyed fashion. Bard just laughed. “ _Come on!_ Just try it out, if you want.”

“I won’t be very good.” Thranduil said, his tone softening, but his gaze remaining away from Bard and his wretched bow.

“ _No one_ is good their first try. Aren’t you the bold, wild Thranduil who would try nearly anything once?”

“ _Nearly_ is the key word there. I could hurt you, Bard!”

“ _Psh_ ,” Bard scoffed with a wave of his hand. “What’s an eye or a hand? I’ve got two of each, don’t I? And you won’t hurt me, I won’t let you and I won’t make fun of you either. You’re not the only one allowed to teach things in this relationship, you know. If you’re really so hesitant, how about we trade lessons?” Thranduil’s blue eyes flew right onto Bard as he said that and he was taken aback as Bard winked at him; the brunette was still surprising him with how cheeky he could be at any given moment.

“What do you mean?” Thranduil asked tentatively and Bard held out his bow.

“I teach you to shoot and you teach me how to do that thing you’ve been talking about.”

“You don’t mean-”

“I do.”

“…Bard, you don’t have to do this. I’ll let you show me how to use the bow without any exchange.” The blonde said, suddenly feeling bad that Bard felt compelled to make such a deal after his initial reaction about the topic before when they’d discussed it, but Bard’s cute, sly smirk wasn’t faltering one bit.

“Why, would you rather I be wearing a teacher’s outfit for the occasion? Tight trousers, a shirt buttoned up to the collar, dress shoes, an elegant tie, a pair of thick rimmed glasses and a ruler in my hand to scold you with?”

Thranduil bowed his head to hide the insane blush on his face, cursing Bard under his breath as he took the bow and trudged in front of Bard. Bard took the blonde by the arm and spun him so that they were face to face.

“Are you going to be a naughty student for me, Mr. Oropherion? I don’t tolerate attitude, and you know what I do to students with attitude?”

“What?” Thranduil challenged, his throat dry as Bard leaned close to his ear.

“I bend them over my desk and I _boop_ them.”

“OH MY GOD.” Thranduil blurted, trying to get away from Bard as he held him tight and chuckled madly as he said “ _boop boop boop!_ ” in Thranduil’s ear over and over again  and tickling him to force a fit of giggles out of him.

“It’s ridiculous that you can say something so stupid with such a serious face!” Thranduil said as he was finally released by his boyfriend who seemed to think he was absolutely hilarious.

“It’s called acting; you know all about that.” Bard said with a smile and helped Thranduil fasten the quiver properly.

“Speaking of, I brought something with me today.”

“You’re always bringing things to _surprise_ me with.” Bard said, referring to Thranduil’s infamous bag of toys that he often liked to bring out during their intimacies. They hadn’t tried anything too drastic, but the things Thranduil wanted Bard to experience kept getting weirder and weirder. Bard didn’t object all the time to using sex toys, since he knew they fulfilled their purposes and they could sometimes give _outstanding_ performance, but he preferred just the two of them with no interferences. “What is it this time?”

“Not what you think, but I have those too. It’s Hamlet. I wasn’t sure if you had a copy, so I brought one so we could look through it together.”

“That’s very thoughtful. I’d like that very much.” Bard grinned as he rubbed Thranduil’s back. “I don’t have a copy, so good thing you brought yours. Unfortunately, I only have one Shakespeare of my own that my high school English teacher gave to me my senior year as a gift and that’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream. I’ve never been so lucky to have more than that.”

“You can borrow any of my collection any time, you know. But we’ve got to focus on Hamlet for now so I can prep you for auditions in the fall.”

“Excuse me, _what?_ _Auditions?”_ Bard laughed in disbelief and Thranduil gave him a straight face.

“Yes, auditions.”

“You mean me helping you?”

“If you want, but I meant me helping _you_.”

“But I’m not-”

“How the heck to you work this damn thing?” Thranduil interrupted and Bard ducked just in time as Thranduil gracelessly flung an arrow out of the quiver.

“ _Whoa_ , watch it!” Bard warned and Thranduil squeaked.

“I’m already almost injuring you, this _isn’t_ a good idea!”

“ _Calm down_ and don’t point the arrowhead at yourself or at me. Sex toys are dangerous too; nothing bad will happen while I’m here with you. _”_ Bard said as he stepped behind Thranduil and placed his hands on his shoulders. “You’re in control. Remember that. Now, what I want you to do is stand with your feet shoulder width apart with an upright posture.” Thranduil did just as instructed. “That’s good. Now relax your grip on the bow handle, then I’ll help you position the arrow and your fingers.”

“Is the bow handle this part where the grooves are?”

“Yes; those are for your fingers.”

Once Thranduil had a suitable grip on the bow to Bard’s liking, the senior archer guided Thranduil’s arm to place the arrow accordingly, docking it in its rest. Next, Bard talked Thranduil through placing his two fingers just so around the small knob on the end of the arrow just behind the fletching, but this part wasn’t so easy for the blonde to figure out just through instruction; the arrow kept slipping and Bard saw the error immediately. Bard had to curl Thranduil’s two fingers into the right pose and then have him gently support the bowstring with a third, and then Thranduil nodded with clarity at last.

“When you pull back, don’t let go of that piece on the end of the arrow, okay?”

“Okay.”

“When you go to pull back, extend your arm holding the bow handle fully and raise the arm holding the arrow up close to your cheek or your eye, whatever you’re most comfortable with, but don’t do it too fast or it’ll all fall apart. It takes a lot of practice to get the motion perfectly fluid.”

Thranduil drew back faster than Bard expected, seeing as he’d just warned him _not_ to do that, and just as he predicted, the entire formation fell apart with the bow and the arrow falling to the ground and Thranduil sounding a noise of aggravation. Bard laughed it off with a shake of his head.

“See? That’s why I told you not to do it so fast.” Bard said and Thranduil scooped up the weaponry again.

“I’m going to try again and I’m going to get it right.” He said resolutely and began replicating his previous stance.

“If you keep doing what you just did, I’m not sure how right you’re going to get it. Just take it slow for now and if you work at it hard enough, you’ll get it eventually just like I did.” With that, the blonde’s shoulders and expression loosened with a relaxed breath streaming from his nostrils, but determination was still blatant in his piercing eyes. Bard worked Thranduil’s shoulders a little before craning upward and kissing his temple. “Patience, my love.”

Thranduil tried a second and a third time to get the archer’s pose and the drawback just right. Now came the final part – the release.

“Okay – you may not hit the target at all the first try, so don’t be discouraged. Look at the target…just a little to the left there, love, there you go. Now when you’re ready, keep steady and let it fly.”

Thranduil let the arrow fling right then, but he flinched as the bowstring slapped his arm and the arrow bounced to the ground much to the blonde’s dismay. Bard remained very encouraging, retrieving the arrow for him every time he shot and telling him what things he did right before telling him to improve something else. After any attempts, the golden shot finally came, the arrow spinning smoothly in the air until it stuck one of the white rings of the target. Bard and Thranduil’s heads turned, both looking at each other as soon as the arrow landed. Thranduil was frozen with disbelief, but then they both erupted into boisterous yelling and cheering to celebrate Thranduil’s hard work. Bard lifted the blonde in his arms and after spinning him and telling him he knew he could do it all along, he carried him to the target so he could see his success up close. Thranduil’s face was glowing with immense pride and insisted he get a picture with his victory and with his teacher. It turned out to be a goofy looking selfie since they were both grinning like idiots.

“Let’s do it again! I bet I can hit at least the blue this time!” Thranduil said as he plucked the arrow from the target and started running back to where he’d begun. Bard laughed, admiring his boyfriend from afar and was stunned with the beauty that was Thranduil Oropherion; the sun’s rays sparkled down on the smile Thranduil flashed to Bard over his shoulder, making him look as if he were an angel descending from the heavens coming to bring him to a land of endless valleys of plush grass and flowers that laughed when the wind tickled their petals. Everything about Thranduil was striking from his outside to the very core of his being and in that moment, something struck a chord in the young brunette; he’d never thought much about soulmates and marriage, but Bard blushed as he thought he never wanted to live through life without Thranduil. He’d been _so lucky_ to have this man come into his life and he would do everything in his power to keep him there by his side. With Thranduil, how could anyone ever grow old or tired or wretched toward the world?

“Come on!” Thranduil beckoned and Bard ran faster than he ever thought he could, coming to the blonde’s call as he knew he would for the rest of his days.

Thranduil wouldn’t leave the shooting range for another two hours against Bard telling him not to push himself so hard. Eventually, Thranduil realized the farthest he would get the day were the blue rings and exhaustion caught up with him. Ready to retire from archery, the two left conversing about how Bard had even become interested in the sport in the first place and how he’d become so talented in all of his years of training.

Brent enjoyed hunting with only standard bows and crossbows, which is how Bard came to first pick up a bow when he was eight much to his mother’s worry. She made Brent agree that Bard couldn’t start learning how to use the weapon until he was at least thirteen, but when he was ten, Brent and Bard had a secret brewing between them. Brent would tell Runa he was working and Bard would tell her he was going off to visit a friend, when instead the two snuck off to the woods. Brent taught Bard how to shoot and only being ten, he wasn’t very good, but year after year they continued their bonding; Bard learned by watching his father hunt and shoot and he practicing for himself. When Runa eventually discovered they’d gone behind her back, she’d only been a little offended and she did not have the heart to tell Bard no because at that point he was almost fourteen. He was eager to show her all he’d learned, and it turned out he was coming to be quite good. From there he was allowed to train freely at home and at the range, as long as his father was present. As time passed, he begged his parents to let him compete and they agreed, knowing a little competition would be good for a boy his age. With every defeat, Bard’s hunger to strive for the best intensified. Archery became his hobby and there was a time where Runa couldn’t get the bow out of his hand. Through his immense devotion, Bard rapidly became an expert and even now he was learning more and more and striving for better with every new step he took.

Bard had managed to wrap up his story before getting back to the truck which was a good thing, since it was ritual now that they would go absolutely bonkers whenever they were in a vehicle together, thrashing around and singing to the blaring radio and they _always_ listened to “My Humps” by The Black Eyed Peas (Thranduil had dubbed it _their_ song). When they returned to the Bowman home, they decided that it was such a lovely day that they would go through the Hamlet book in the backyard. They sat very close to one another so that they could both read it, Bard’s arm shoved against Thranduil’s and his head resting on his shoulder as Thranduil held the book open and flipped through the pages.

“I like that you brought this to share it with me, but what was that you were saying about auditions earlier?” Bard spoke.

“I have to prepare you. I’m sure you know the play frontward and backward word for word, but I have no idea what your acting is like. If you can act like you do with me with your heart pouring out of your mouth and your eyes, you’ll surely land a good part, sweetie.”

“I never agreed to try out, you know. I don’t think I really want to.” Bard said and Thranduil nuzzled his head on Bard’s.

“Don’t be silly!”

“I told you I won’t have the time, Thran.”

“Is that the only thing stopping yo?”

“That and the fact that the last time I did any acting on a stage in front of a crowd was for the fourth grade play; we did Toy Story and I was Woody.”

“Aw, how cute! You’ll have to show me a picture, along with all of those cute baby ones your mother keeps telling me about.” Thranduil giggled and Bard rolled his eyes. “I bet you were a rootin’-tootin’ good Woody, Bard.”

“Not exactly. I tripped and ripped Bo-Peep’s dress. She hated me every day after that damn play and she probably will for the rest of time.”

“It’s her job to roll with the punches and improv.”

“We were in the _fourth grade_.”

“Exactly! So you can’t base your performance skills off of one elementary school play. Let’s just read and see what happens before anyone does any decision making…hm…what should I make you read? How about the iconic ‘to be or not to be’? Do you know the meaning well?”

“I should say I do,” Bard said as held the book in his own hands and he paused. “…So what, you just want me to read it out loud?”

“No, I don’t want you to _just read it out loud_ ; I want you to _act!_ ”

“I don’t really know how, to be honest.”

“You have it, which I think you do from remembering all of your recitations, it will come out on its own. Just go ahead and try.”

“Um, okay, just give me one minute…”

“Okay.”

Thranduil sat with his legs crossed very patiently as Bard refreshed himself on the notorious speech with his mouth silently making the words as his eyes skimmed over them. Truth be told, Bard was extremely nervous to be doing such a thing in front of Thranduil, the acting virtuoso. He didn’t want to do such a poor job that Thranduil actually laughed at him, but how bad could he possibly be? After some time of composing himself and taking preparatory breaths, he forced himself to start.

“To be, or not to be? That is the question—whether ’tis nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, or to take arms against a sea of troubles, and, by opposing, _end_ them? To die, to sleep—no more—and by a sleep to say we end the heartache and the thousand natural shocks that flesh is heir to—’tis a consummation devoutly to be wished! To die, to sleep. To sleep, perchance to dream—ay, there’s the rub, for in that sleep of death what dreams may come when we have shuffled off this mortal coil, must give us pause.” Bard gave himself a dramatic pause before continuing on. “ _There’s_ the respect that makes calamity of so long life. For who would bear the whips and scorns of time, th' oppressor’s wrong, the proud man’s contumely, the pangs of despised love, the law’s delay, the insolence of office, and the spurns that patient merit of th' unworthy takes, when he himself might his quietus make with a bare bodkin? Who would fardels bear, to grunt and sweat under a weary life, but that the dread of something after death, he undiscovered country from whose bourn no traveler returns, puzzles the will and makes us rather bear those ills we have than fly to others that we know not of?...Thus conscience does make cowards of us all, and thus the native hue of resolution is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought, and enterprises of great pith and moment with this regard their currents turn awry, and lose the name of action. Soft you now, the fair Ophelia! Nymph, in thy orisons be all my sins remembered…”

As he finished, he let out a shaky breath, his lips trembling in a smile and set the book down in Thranduil’s lap, wanting very much to have his part of the readings to be over. He couldn’t judge his own performance, because he was so in the moment that as every word came rolling off of his tongue, he could hardly remember what it sounded like as he said it. His heart was racing, which he thought was bizarre; surely Thranduil never felt such a rush when he took on a new persona. What a weird feeling it was to have his blood surging with him with such edgy vigor, he thought, but it was a vaguely familiar feeling that he recalled experiencing from his very first archery competition. The sensation was not the same as the one that flooded over him when he was attacked by a sweeping wave of overbearing adoration for Thranduil, whether they were being intimate or not, but the feeling that he felt now was very strong and epochal none the less and he wasn’t sure if that was a good or a bad thing.

“S-Sorry, sorry.” Bard stuttered and gathered the courage to peer up at Thranduil’s face; his head was bowed, his hand over his chest and his overall expression was fixed in tranquil relaxation.

“Don’t ever apologize for delivering a piece of art so beautifully.” Thranduil spoke slowly with his eyes fluttering open and his vision settling on a very confused looking Bard. He wanted to refute what Thranduil said, clearly thinking he didn’t deserve such a compliment, but his boyfriend, the actor, looked dead serious.

“Are you acting right now? Is that what you’re doing?” Bard asked hesitantly and Thranduil gave a soft smile and a shake of his head.

“No, I’m not. I’m being completely honest. You have a natural talent and I’m doing all I can to refrain from jumping on you and making you read every single page as we make love right here.” He answered, looking Bard straight in the eyes.

“You really love me, don’t you?” Bard whispered.

“Yes, just as you do me.” They watched each other for a moment, taking in the glory of the other in a mutual moment of flattery.  “You’re such a wonderful person, Bard…I could say forever that I don’t deserve you, but I know if I did that you would only say the same because you’re sweet and humble and I don’t want you to think you don’t deserve me.”

“Forever?”

“Forever and a day, right?”

“That’s right.” Bard said as he gripped Thranduil’s hand as if his life depended on it, and in a way, it did. “We both deserve happiness; we deserve each other.”

**Author's Note:**

> The title for this one doesn't quite fit the context, but I'm saving some better quotes for later parts! ^-^ Thanks again to everyone who's been reading so devotedly; I appreciate it more than you could ever know! <3


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